


Delicate Complexities

by DistantStorm



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drabble Sequence, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Vanguard Drama, attempting to get these people into character, i'm a sucker for devastated!Zavala
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 22:04:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15958457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantStorm/pseuds/DistantStorm
Summary: A ransacked convoy, an overprotective Titan, and a Warlock left out. Sprinkle in a near death, and a touch of humor at the end, and there you have it: delicate complexities.





	Delicate Complexities

It's raining. Where it would be soothing any other time, the distortion on the coms irritates him immensely. He never should have agreed to this. In fact, the second things get sorted out, he's going to discuss with Ikora and the Speaker about convoys leaving the city being armed with at least one guardian.

 

His heart is racing with anxiety in every powerful beat, and his ghost does not make so much as a click as she hovers above his left shoulder, body spinning as she runs biometric scans in addition to threat detection. The chink-clink of his armor is deafening as he runs, head swiveling to take in as much of his surroundings as possible in the dark.

 

The low whirling and muted light of a servitor shines off in the distance - facing away from him, so he's thankfully undetected, and he stops. Behind him, a fireteam of new(ish)recruits slows a few paces behind, scouting ahead with the use of scopes.

 

“About eighty meters ahead,” his ghost hums quietly. “I've picked up what appears to be a convoy broadcasting on local channels. No answer across the coms. Devrim has been trying to make contact. I won't be able to make out biometrics from this far out.”

 

“Ready your weapons,” Zavala says quietly, drawing a fusion rifle. “I will go up ahead. Cover me.”

 

The affirmation of his command came at once. Zavala covered two thirds the distance in an effortless run, his well-trained vision seeking threats and finding none.

 

“I've highlighted the remains of the convoy for you,” his ghost chimes softly. “I sense ether trails, but they're old. Fallen were here and gone.”

 

“Any signs of life?”

 

“Yes,” Zavala sighed in relief, looking for the marker in his peripheral. “Only one. Human, sex unknown. Definitely injured - heart rate is up, blood pressure is down.” She sighed. “I don't want you to get your hopes up,” she flitted in front of him, making noise as her shell spun. “That convoy left with five people on it. This isn't good, Zavala.”

 

No, no it wasn't. The rain made it difficult to see, but he knew for sure he'd passed the bodies of two Fallen and one human. There had been a fight.  He clenched his fist, inhaled, unclenched and exhaled. It felt as though his heart was in his throat. One of five. While casualties were always expected in situations like these, this was different. There was only a twenty percent chance...

 

A wet, muffled cough and scraping sounds caught his attention. “There!” His ghost called, illuminating a point off to his left.

 

The convoy consisted of three vehicles, all equipped for off road, and all three carrying and pulling equipment and weapons. One was still on the muddy road, the trailer behind it tipped, both supplies and vehicle burned. One had gone down the embankment to his left, the one with the marker beside it. He couldn't see the supplies or the trailer that matched it. The last had crashed into a tree further back, and looked to have been picked clean of materials before it too was burned.

 

“Can anyone hear me?” He called tentatively, approaching the embankment.

 

More coughing - it sounded more feeble this time.

 

“Don't move, I'm coming to you.”

 

A pale, trembling arm held up a dim flashlight. It flickered, shorted out, and came back on, but it was enough for him to catch a glimpse of red on the ground - the frayed bandana on the other arm - good enough for a positive ID.

 

-/

 

Ikora finds that she spends more time livid these days than any other of the countless emotions she encounters. Yesterday it was over a trade decision. The day before that it was over a FWC and New Monarchy scuffle that nearly ended in brutality.

 

Today, it's because the commander is late for a meeting of the consensus. Or that's how it started. Now she's livid because he left the tower without telling her, without seeking her counsel or even backup.

 

The lividity blurs as time passes into worry.

 

Obsessive, gut wrenching worry.

 

The minutes feel like hours, and they give her more than enough time to reflect on things.

 

Things like:

 

How she can't remember the last time her words didn't have an acidic bite to them when speaking to him.

 

How she mockingly calls him 'Commander’ when she's frustrated with him - lately that's all it's been. Never Zavala.

 

Had they ever taken time to grieve together after Cayde's death? She hadn't seen him grieve, but she's known him far longer than most, and he feels things so deeply beneath that impenetrable armor (both metaphorically and physically, she supposed).

 

And most importantly (at present): What would make him leave the tower so quickly and without telling her?

 

No, she reasoned after a few moments of meditation. Not what. _Who_?

 

When Ikora finally receives news, it’s in the form of Devrim Kay requesting immediate medical assistance at the east wall of the city, four casualties, one major injury. Fallen responsible. Fireteam ALIKAI present and accounted for. She shakes her head and proceeds to the hangar, this time trying to reign in her anger. There’s no place for it in a situation with casualties.

 

After, though, she will be having a talk with a certain co- Zavala. She shakes her head. She will be having a discussion with Zavala.

 

-/

 

There is certainly more than enough commotion when she makes it to the wall. There are several physicians with medkits, and a full-scale yet portable life support system. The lights of the returning team’s vehicles are bright, and the guardians atop the wall are perched with sniper rifles to prevent any interference with their entry.

 

Three vehicles - two sparrows, one off-road - stop behind the wall, as is protocol, but one continues barreling toward the entry at startling rate of speed. The driver swings wide at the last second, jumping out almost before it’s come to a complete stop.

 

The awoken commander’s eyes are wild, like she’s never seen before. He rushes around to the other side of the vehicle, throwing open the door as the medical team takes a tentative step forward. He kneels reverently, almost. After a short moment, he lifts the passenger from the vehicle and turns back toward them.

 

Amanda Holliday attempts to reach a hand to his cheek, all strength leaving her upon making contact. She goes limp in his arms, passing glance leaving a smear of blood on Zavala’s face like a tattoo.

 

Ikora thinks she’s going to be sick. Her gut churns.

 

Not again.

 

They can’t bear another loss this close.

 

Not again.

 

The titan hands her off gently to the medical team who sets quickly to work, passing by him to rush her off to the tower’s medical bay. The rest of his improvised fireteam has gathered and is headed his way. He looks lost and not at all like the leader they’re expecting.

 

The warlock swallows and steps out from the shadows.

 

“Exemplary work, ALIKAI. Get yourselves cleaned up and get some rest. I’ll see to it you get rewarded for your work.” She walks forward and stands beside Zavala, so that she is facing them while his back is turned, like two sides of a coin. “We will mourn our losses and stand to fight another day.”

 

“Yes,” Zavala agrees, his voice like a raspy whisper, “Good work.”

 

The fireteam nods their assent before dispersing.

 

Ikora moves to stand in front of him, her gaze gentle. She takes in the totality of his appearance. He’s covered in blood she can only assume is Amanda’s and the ichar of the fallen. His illuminary eyes seem dull and out of focus.

 

“Come,” She beckons.

 

He follows silently, save for the clinking of his armor in the otherwise still pre-dawn hours. The rain has cleared up. He doesn’t make a sound until she attempts to steer her away from the med bay and toward his rooms.

 

“No,” he protests when she blocks his way. “I have to -”

 

“Clean yourself up,” Ikora says gently. “There’s no way anyone will let you see her like this.”

 

She stands outside his chambers while he showers. The sounds of shattering glass and things hitting the wall do not miss her notice, but she doesn’t comment on them when he exits the room a short while later. He’s clean, but his chest is heaving with a combination of rage and anxiety and he is _not_ expecting to see her waiting for him.

 

“What are you still doing here?” He asks, and she can practically taste the wrath in his tone. “If you would like to yell, let’s hear it.”

 

She pushes both palms out in a gesture of surrender. “I am here because you need a friend.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“It wasn’t originally, but circumstances changed.” The void warlock sighs at his frown. “That’s not meant to be pity either.” She links her hands behind her back, wringing them before continuing. “I am unbelievably angry at you for taking off without so much as a word to me. We can discuss that later. What I’m trying to say is that I am - I _am_ here for you. And that I haven’t been lately. And that I’m ashamed that it’s taken almost losing someone else to show me that.”

 

The hostility, the defensiveness in his posture leaves so abruptly she thinks he’s going to fall over. His shoulders round, and he slouches in such defeat it makes her heart clench. She takes a large hand in hers. “You can debrief me while we walk over.”

 

-/

 

_“Amanda! Look at me, Amanda!” He doesn’t shake her for fear of doing more damage, but he cups her face in his hands and pats her cheeks gently to rouse her._

 

_A gurgle and some blood leaking from the corner of her mouth gives him pause. His ghost is running scans and reporting numbers that run together in his mind. She blinks open faded eyes that look dark green instead of their usual mix of hazel, blue, and green._

 

_“Z’vala?”_

 

_He almost laughs in relief at the recognition. His ghost bobs sideways as if she were shaking her head if she had one. “We don’t have much time. We’ve got to get her out of here now if you want to keep her from bleeding out.” Her lens illuminates an injury to the shipwright’s leg that’s pouring more blood than the damage to her chest or the mottled bruising across her temple. “We need to make a tourniquet.”_

 

_He looks around. Her jacket is in shreds. There’s nothing that looks long enough to tie around her thigh. With a shake of his head, he reaches for the fabric of his mark. It’s not ideal, but it’s long enough to make do._

 

_She screams when he pulls it tight, and after she stops he realizes she’s holding her breath. “Amanda.”_

 

_“Hurts.”_

 

_“I know,” he soothes, brushing grimy fingers across her forehead. “I have to move you. It’s going to be painful.”_

 

_His ghost materializes next to him. “She’s got the leg injury and broken ribs, probably a concussion too. Don’t jostle her and you should be okay. If she stops breathing, or it sounds like she’s wheezing or gasping, a lung is damaged and this gets a whole lot more complicated._

 

_She screams again when he picks her up, but this one isn’t nearly as loud. He can feel her chest rising and falling laboriously against his breastplate and looks up at his ghost. She’s fretful as well, her shell spinning back and forth in an anxious fashion._

 

_“She’s definitely got lung damage, Zavala. We don’t have time to lose.”_

 

_“‘M alright,” she murmurs quietly as he carefully scales back up the embankment. “What ‘bout everyone else?”_

 

_The fireteam is waiting for him at the road, and their faces are grave. “We found the rest of them,” A female hunter says quietly. "No survivors.”_

 

_A strangled cry from the confines of his arms gives the hunter pause. Amanda looks up at Zavala, tears pouring down her face, her breathing even more erratic from the shuddering sobs. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t’ve-”_

 

_He nods at the hunter. “We have one survivor more than initially anticipated. Let’s get back to the city. We don’t have time to waste.”_

 

_He half-runs to the off-road vehicle his ghost transmats in front of him, lowering her in and buckling her despite her protests and whimpers._

 

_“I can’t drive this thing slowly,” He replies softly. “There’s no time.”_

 

_She muffles the sound of her agony by worrying her lips every time he hits a rough patch of road, until a coughing spell takes precedence. She can taste the blood, and see the clots on her hands when she pulls them away._

 

_“Amanda. Stay awake. Amanda!”_

 

_At some point she loses consciousness - she has no idea for how long, just that Zavala is yelling. At her. But it’s not normal Zavala yelling. It sounds scared._

 

_“Damnit! Answer me, Holliday!”_

 

_Her pupils are sluggish and her vision is blurry when she attempts to open her eyes, and her head feels like it’s on a swivel, swaying back and forth._

 

_He looks up at the Traveler looming low over the city in the distance, eyes blurring between blinks.“Don’t you take her away, you hear me? He slams his fists on the steering wheel, and that gets her attention._

 

_“Don’t be silly,” She feels herself mumble, though she feels like she’s witnessing the conversation in third person. “Ain’t goin' nowhere.”_

 

_“I’ll hold you to it,” He replies, reaching a hand across the cabin to wipe some of the blood away from her mouth. “We’re almost there. Stay with me, please.” Her head dips down, relying on his hand to stay upright. “Amanda? AMANDA!”_

 

_No answer. He sighs and glances over at her, pushing the pedal down harder. His ghost flutters in front of her, shifting from side to side in worry._

 

_“Zavala, she’s breathing for now, but -”_

 

 _“_ Don’t _say it. We’re almost there.”_

 

_“Alright, big guy. You make time. I’ll let you know if you need to do compressions. Keep it together. We’re going to get her through this.”_

 

-/

 

She tucked a cup of coffee into his hands. “I know you won’t sleep, as much as I tell you to.” He nodded, looking down into it, not at all happy with his reflection. “She’s going to be okay.”

 

Zavala frowned. “Yes, that’s why she woke up hallucinating that you were a dreg coming back to finish the job.”

 

“She was outside in the rain for hours before you rescued her. She’s going to be sick.” Ikora blew the surface of her tea. “I’m also wearing a similar shade of purple. It’s an association.” At Zavala’s frown she sighed. “She’s not a guardian. She’s not going to make a full recovery in a few days, or even a few weeks. But she _will_ be okay.”

 

-/

 

_“I’m not angry with you because you left,” Ikora was seething as quietly as she could the dam finally breaking. “I am angry, because you did not think to seek my opinion or even let me know. We are all we have left of our fireteam. I will concede my half of the blame, but we have to be partners, Zavala. I cannot imagine how I would manage to carry on without you.”_

 

_“I’m.. sorry.”_

 

_“You’re not.” She gestures vaguely in the direction of the girl sleeping in the hospital bed, tubes filling her with nutrition, medication, oxygen. “You’re not sorry you went out there. Neither am I. She’s important to you. I get that.”_

 

_“So are you.”_

 

_“There’s no doubt in my mind.” She pauses. “We both need to communicate better, or else this cruel world will tear us apart. I don’t want that for us.”_

 

_“Neither do I.”  He opens his arms and embraces her for the first time probably since the city had been reclaimed from the Red Legion. She inhaled deeply in the crux of his neck, and he lowered his lips to the shell of her ear. “We are far better than that, my friend.”_

 

-/

 

“Go do some work,” came the tired voice from beside the bed. “How’s humanity supposed to survive without you leading the charge?”

 

He immediately pulled the chair closer and reached for her hand, squeezed it. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Like someone threw me off a spaceship,” She replied. “You?”

 

“Better now.”

 

She squeezed his hand tightly. He looked tired and worried. An echo crosses the back of her mind - she's not sure if it's real or not, but she swears she remembers cool, calloused fingertips tracing the side of her face, and leaning into them while he whispered things to her, things just out of her memory's grasp. She knows it made her feel safe, and she thinks that's real enough. 

 

“You’re a terrible liar.” She smiled a smile that ended up as a grimace, shifting up in the bed, despite the alarms going off on the monitoring equipment from the pain triggered heart rate increase. “You look like crap, Commander.”

 

-/

 

Amanda hobbled from one end of the workspace to the other, doing her best not to put her full body weight on her bad leg. Her limp was disgraceful, but she was hell-bent on doing something that made her feel less like an invalid. It wasn’t like she was lifting anything, just tweaking a few things on a friend’s engine for a very serious (and definitely not illegal) sparrow race in the next few days.

 

She heard the clink of his armor before she saw him. Ikora chuckled from her seat on top of a nearby sparrow frame.  “I told you he’d come looking the second he found out.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” The effort of doing even light tasks she normally did was exhausting, and she begrudgingly admitted she’d require a nap before supper. But that wasn’t the point, and she’d listen to her body. “Don’t look at me like that,” Amanda said, keeping her back to him. She could feel the disapproving glare through to her soul. “I’m _fine_.” She snorted, before jerking the wrench in her hand in the direction of Ikora. “I even brought a babysitter to make sure I don’t overdo it.”

 

“That does not explain why you decided to completely disregard the physician’s orders, unless I missed the part where he determined engine modifications to be under the category of no physical activity.”

 

Ikora closed the book she was definitely not reading, summoning her ghost with a wave of her hand. “I don’t think you’re going to win this one, Amanda,” she murmured gently. “He enjoys coddling you when time allows for it.”

 

“Shucks,” she sighed, dropping the wrench. “I suppose I could be persuaded to eat somethin’, if you have time for lunch?” She looked up at him with a smirk. “I think that’s one of the activities I’m allowed to do.”

 

She wiped her hands off and reached for the set of crutches propped up in the corner. Zavala shook his head. “You two are insufferable,” he replied, turning away from her. “But I will be taking lunch in my study before I run tactical for a  few strikes in the EDZ. You are welcome to join me, if it will keep you from further trouble.”

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it. I kind of got off track toward the end, trying to rectify the whole situation with some lightheartedness. I'm trying to get use the voice of each of these characters, and I think Zavala is the most difficult. He's so emotional, but it simmers right under the surface. I don't want to overdo it and make him a softy, but I feel like he is. 
> 
> My hope is that my next fic might have Shaxx in it, should I be able to actually write him without butchering his character royally. If anyone has any requests or prompts, feel free to throw 'em at me. No promises, but I wouldn't mind writing a drabble on a head-cannon or two.


End file.
